


Starling

by cuubism



Series: where all light is mute [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Eating Disorders, Exhaustion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23492284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuubism/pseuds/cuubism
Summary: “I’m tired, Magnus,” Alec breathed, and it felt like an admission of guilt. “I’m so tired.”
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: where all light is mute [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691833
Comments: 34
Kudos: 342





	Starling

**Author's Note:**

> this is just total self-indulgence. i hope you enjoy. 
> 
> please take the self-harm tag seriously for this fic. it's not graphic, but it is emotionally heavy. details in the end notes if you need them.

Luke was saying something, probably something important, but Alec wasn’t paying attention. He needed to be paying attention—he had started this council, after all, and what use was it if he was going to space out the entire time?

But he felt distant, his mind locked on all the _other_ work he needed to be doing, the work that was piling up on his desk, the meetings he had later, the meetings he had tomorrow—

He couldn’t focus. He _needed_ to focus.

He dug his fingers into his leg to try to stop its jittering.

“…and the New York pack is feeling tentatively positive about the new mixed patrols,” Luke finished, nodding at Alec.

Alec smiled back at him with the strength he could muster. “That’s great, Luke,” he said, hoping to god Luke’s statement hadn’t been preceded by anything negative. “Now, if that’s all, I think we can adjourn this meeting.”

As the council dispersed, Luke snagged Alec by the arm. Alec was sure he was going to get chewed out for not paying attention, but Luke merely said, “You doing okay?”

Alec nodded. “Same as ever.”

Luke fixed him with a serious expression. “Look, I know we’re sometimes on opposite sides when it comes to politics. But I don’t want you to think that means you can’t come to me if something’s wrong.” His expression softened into something a little bashful. “I’m kind of your step-dad now.”

Fond amusement crept into Alec’s chest. “I know, and that’s still kind of weird to me, so don’t rub it in.”

“A good weird, I hope?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Luke clapped him on the shoulder, and as he turned to walk away, Alec said, genuinely, “Thanks, Luke. I appreciate it.”

Luke’s kind words could only buoy Alec for so long, though. Soon enough, he was back in his office, slogging through paperwork, leg bouncing under his desk.

He couldn’t focus. The words kept skidding right through his brain, making no impact. He _had_ to get this done, or else it was just going to pile up more and more and he’d have twice the work to do tomorrow.

_Focus, goddammit._

He was about to bang his head against the desk when Jace leaned in the doorway. “Yo,” he said, “you wanna go kill some demons?”

“Yes,” Alec said, standing up, ignoring the way the room spun, digging his fingernails into his palms to quell his shaking, “god, yes.”

His bow was a steadying weight in his hand, a connection to reality when he felt like he was floating somewhere alongside it. Alec tightened his grip, feeling the strain in his bones, the callouses forming on his palm.

“Are you doing okay?” Jace asked as they crept through an alley, following a demon’s snaking slime trail.

“Are you worried about me, too?” Alec grumbled, keeping his eyes on the trail.

“Who else is worried about you?”

“Luke.”

“Oh. I would have thought Magnus.” Jace’s voice was cautious, like he thought he might be treading on quicksand.

“Haven’t seen him in three days.” Alec grit his jaw as he said it, trying to externalize the hurt in his chest.

“What?” Jace sounded startled. “Why?”

“Too busy.”

“You, or him?”

“Both.”

This wasn’t strictly true. They _were_ busier than normal, but they’d always found ways to make time for each other at such moments in the past. It was Alec’s own fault, he knew. He’d been declining Magnus’s offers to portal him home, responding to his texts with one-word answers, and he felt bad about it, but he just _couldn’t_ see Magnus right now. If he saw Magnus, got to touch him, hold him, it would shatter his remaining composure.

“Maybe you should take the night off,” Jace suggested. “I’m sure he can move some things around and make time for you.”

He would, and that was the problem. Alec didn’t want to make Magnus upend his schedule for him.

He shook his head. “Let’s just focus on this demon.”

The demon was a weird hybrid thing, with a sluglike body and long pincers that snapped at the air.

“Gross,” Jace said as they came upon it. “I was hoping for something that wouldn’t ruin my jacket.”

They readied their weapons—

But the demon was faster.

It was _so_ fast, faster than its anatomy would suggest. Before they could strike first, it darted for them, and they leapt out of the way—

Well, Jace leapt out of the way. Alec _tried_ to. His legs were shaking, and not from fear—it took a lot more than one disgusting demon to frighten him. He moved, but there was a delay, like his muscles couldn’t quite read the signals from his brain—and the demon’s pincer caught him in the arm.

Alec hissed in pain, and swiped at it with his blade, severing the limb. The demon rounded on him with its other claw, but Jace jumped in front of Alec, wicked fast, and stabbed it through the eye.

The demon shrieked and disintegrated, and Alec stood there, clutching at his throbbing arm, thinking, _god, that was such an easy kill. What’s wrong with me?_

He was still shaking as he got in the shower, black spots dancing at the corners of his vision as he watched the blood run down from the wound. He had managed to convince Jace not to apply an _iratze_ by telling him he wanted to get it checked out in the infirmary for traces of venom first, which left him here, his upper arm stinging, and bleeding sluggishly, and Alec just—watching it, and not doing anything.

He felt frozen, static, he couldn’t do anything but watch the blood drip, drip, drip onto the tile.

It felt _right_ to watch it drain, like he hadn’t been using it correctly, and so no longer deserved it.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to be thinking like that, Magnus had told him not to, and he couldn’t disappoint Magnus—

The thought, which normally would have snapped him out of it, only slid past him like the water droplets sliding down his spine. Alec wrapped his hand around the wound, ostensibly to slow the bleeding, but really to press down on the cut harder, feel that place where what was inside was slipping out into the air.

He grit his teeth against the sting, letting his eyes fall shut and his head drop back against the wall, and he knew he wasn’t supposed to be doing this, he knew he would upset Magnus, but it was the only thing so far that had stilled his shaking.

Izzy knocked on his door as Alec was sitting on the bed, recently dressed from his shower, contemplating his own inadequacy.

“Hey, you want to grab dinner?”

Alec considered this. He felt hollow, restless energy still curling inside him, tremors running up and down his arms. He didn’t remember the last time he had eaten. He didn’t think it was today.

But he couldn’t eat. He didn’t know why, he just couldn’t. It felt like giving in.

“I’m, um, pretty wiped from patrol,” he told Izzy, “think I’m gonna sleep for a bit and get something later.”

The expression on Izzy’s face looked like she couldn’t decide whether to be concerned that Alec wasn’t eating, or relieved that he was sleeping. Little did she know that he wasn’t doing either.

“Are you sure? I can bring something up if you want? Or I can call Magnus if you’d rather eat with him. I promise I won’t be offended. Well—” she amended, “not _too_ offended.” 

Alec tried to smile at her. “It’s fine, Izzy. Thanks.”

As she left the room, he buried his face in his hands and tried to get his thoughts in order. He couldn’t manage to grab them, they kept skittering out of his reach, chasing each other around the confines of his brain.

He needed to _focus,_ he needed to—

He didn’t even know what work he was supposed to be doing right now. It was all hazy, a blur of indistinct responsibilities and pressures fraying his nerves.

Alec pushed himself upright abruptly, intending to—

He never figured out what he was intending to do because his vision went black and he stumbled, keeling over back onto the bed where he lay for a second, getting his bearings, before sliding onto the floor.

The floor was safe. He couldn’t fall if he was already on the floor.

The ridiculous thought snapped something in Alec’s brain back into alignment.

God, what the hell was he _doing?_ Why was he insisting on hurting himself? Why couldn’t he _stop?_

He scrabbled for his phone on the nightstand with a shaky hand and dialed Magnus’s number before he could second-guess himself.

“I see we’re talking again,” Magnus said when he picked up, and Alec knew he was rightfully upset that Alec had been ghosting him. Alec would have a lot of apologizing to do. Once he could get up off the floor.

“Magnus,” he breathed, the one word all he could manage. It sounded more like a sob.

Any irritation vanished from Magnus’s tone. “Alec? Are you alright? Where are you?”

Alec bit his lip to keep it from trembling. “Can you come get me? I don’t think I can get up.”

This was definitely the _wrong_ thing to say, and would send Magnus into an absolute panic of thinking that Alec was lying seriously hurt somewhere. But Alec was having a hard time filtering his words.

A portal appeared in his room. Magnus must have tracked him rather than try to get another coherent answer out of him.

Magnus stepped into the room, spinning in place, looking frantic. “Alec?”

He stilled when he caught sight of Alec crumpled on the floor. “Oh, my angel.”

Alec’s chest hurt so bad, his eyes were brimming with tears, but everything felt easier to bear once Magnus was in the room. “Magnus,” Alec said again, like his name was the only word that existed.

Magnus crouched beside him, pulling Alec into his arms. Alec tucked his head into the crook of Magnus’s neck, relishing in his warmth, his scent. He clutched at Magnus’s shirt, feeling jangly and uncoordinated, disconnected from his body and simultaneously controlled by it.

“Magnus,” he was still saying, as Magnus’s fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, his hands Alec’s only tether to the rest of the world, “Magnus, _Magnus—”_

“Shhhh,” Magnus soothed, running a hand up and down his back, “It’s alright, darling, it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry,” Alec said, lips dragging against Magnus’s throat. Tears were slipping down his cheeks, but there were too many still in his chest for it to feel like a release. “I’m sorry, I’m—”

“Whatever for?” Magnus asked, as he pressed a kiss to Alec’s hair.

“Everything.”

“No,” Magnus said, and his grip tightened in Alec’s shirt. “No, it’s alright. Everything’s alright.”

Magnus didn’t understand. He didn’t understand the ways Alec had been hurting him. He wouldn’t be so forgiving when he did.

Alec shook his head. “It’s not,” he said, “it’s not.”

“It’s not?” Magnus questioned, humoring him, trying to get him to talk more. Then his hands stilled as something occurred to him. “Alexander, are you hurt?”

Alec contemplated lying, but he hated lying to Magnus. He nodded against his neck.

Then Magnus was holding him at arm’s length, looking him over. “Where?” he demanded. “Where? Show me.”

Alec gestured to his arm, avoiding Magnus’s gaze. Magnus carefully rolled his sleeve up and peered at the wound, which Alec hadn’t even bandaged, never mind healed.

Alec expected Magnus to heal it right away, but instead he turned to look at Alec searchingly. “Do you want me to heal this?” he asked. “I want an honest answer, Alexander.”

Miserably, Alec shook his head. “No.” Even now, the stinging edge of the cut was keeping him from spiraling off to who knew where. He waited for the disappointment in Magnus’s gaze.

What he got instead was resignation and grief. “I thought not,” Magnus said, and cupping Alec’s neck, leaned in to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Can I take you home?” he asked. “I don’t think being here is doing you any good.”

“Yeah,” Alec said shakily. He would follow Magnus’s touch anywhere right now.

Magnus pulled him to his feet. Alec had to lean on him for a moment before he got his balance.

Between two blinks Magnus had portalled them to the loft and bustled Alec over to the bed. He sat him up against the headboard, manhandling Alec’s limbs where he needed to, tucking the comforter in around him with quick, jerky movements.

“Have you eaten today?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

Magnus climbed into bed and sat cross-legged beside him, snapping his fingers so a bowl landed in Alec’s lap.

“It’s nothing heavy, just plain pasta,” he explained, and when Alec opened his mouth to protest, fixed him with a stern look. “You need sustenance, Alexander. Eat it.”

It was almost refreshing to get the anger he’d been expecting. Alec ate the pasta mechanically, watching Magnus out of the corner of his eye. It was only when he saw him twisting his hands together that he realized: it wasn’t anger. It was fear.

“Magnus, I’m—”

“Don’t you dare apologize. _I’m_ sorry that I didn’t see you sliding backwards.”

He _had_ been sliding backwards. He’d worked so _hard_ to get where he was, and it was all dissolving in his grasp, and he didn’t know how to stop himself from ruining everything.

“You can’t see what I don’t want to show you,” Alec said softly.

Magnus curled in on himself, exhaling shakily. “Don’t you know you can talk to me? I won’t judge you, I— I thought you knew that.”

Magnus had done everything imaginable to prove that to him. It was Alec’s dumb brain that was making this difficult.

“Please let me help you,” Magnus begged, hands clenched in the comforter.

Alec put the bowl of pasta—still only half-finished—on the bedside table and curled up with his head in Magnus’s lap, nuzzling into his belly. Magnus's hands went immediately to his hair, and Alec sighed.

“It’s hard,” he admitted. “I get— stuck. Sometimes I don’t realize I’m stuck until it’s too late.”

He was still trembling a little, shivers of nerves running down his limbs, restlessness not quite quelled.

“I know,” Magnus said, “I’m not upset with you, I promise.” He scratched at Alec’s scalp, and Alec’s eyes fluttered shut, an entirely different kind of shiver running through him. He felt tears pricking at his eyes again—Magnus’s hands felt so _good_ , he felt so safe under his touch, and he didn’t deserve him.

“Oh, my love,” Magnus said when he saw his tears, “you’re slipping away. Come back to me.”

“I’m tired, Magnus,” Alec breathed, and it felt like an admission of guilt. “I’m so tired.”

“I know, darling.” Magnus caressed his face, right under his eye, where there were no doubt dark circles of exhaustion. “I know.”

Alec could feel his control crumbling again, mind racing, jitters echoing down his limbs, and he breathed out, loud and fast, against Magnus’s stomach—

Magnus tugged at his hair, kind of sharp, to get his attention, and Alec jolted as his thoughts evened out, just for a second, his abused body going still.

“Alec?”

Alec nuzzled in closer to Magnus’s belly, mindlessly seeking out any relief he could get. “Please.”

“Did that help?” There was a shred of amusement in Magnus’s voice, but he resumed his ministrations in Alec’s hair, tugging harder at the strands, his hands gentle and demanding at once. Alec’s whole body shuddered as he surrendered to Magnus’s touch, to his careful yet insistent hold.

“Please don’t let go of me,” Alec managed to murmur, voice muffled by Magnus’s shirt. He wasn’t sure where he’d end up if Magnus ever let go.

Magnus curled over him, his breath warm on Alec’s face, his entire being focused on Alec trembling apart in his lap. “Never,” he said, just a breath, barely audible. “Nothing could pry my hands away from you.”

_I believe you_ , Alec thought, _I believe you._

**Author's Note:**

> self-harm cw: sleep deprivation, food deprivation, leaving a wound untreated, intentionally worsening an injury
> 
> i was going to name this something less random and then i was like fuck it  
> title from _Dante's Inferno,_ Canto 5
> 
> _As winter starlings riding on their wings  
>  Form crowded flocks, so spirits dip and veer  
> Foundering in the wind's rough buffetings,  
> Upward or downward, driven here and there  
> With never ease from pain nor hope of rest._


End file.
